Virtue
by Caesari
Summary: Sing, Muse, of the quarrel between Sephiroth and Genesis, and weave us the story of the destruction of a mighty civilisation by these two noblest of men... Seph/Gen, siege of Troy style AU. Warnings for sexual content, violence and minor character deaths.


_**Virtue**_**, or **_**The Fall of Tamblin**_

**Chapter One: Feud and Battle**

**Warnings for explicit sexual content, violence and minor character deaths.**

"_**I shall win rich renown today, either for stripping the corpse of the leader of my country's enemies, or else for a glorious death. My father will bear the one fate as easily as the other."**_

**VIRGIL**_**, AENEID **_**(BOOK 10)**

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><p><em>Sing, sweet Muse, of the anger of Genesis, that brave prince and marshal of the Banorans. Tell of the anger that filled his heart and inflicted such suffering to the Wutaians and sent many of those warriors' souls down in anguish to the depths of Hades. Sing of the quarrel between Genesis and godlike Sephiroth, and weave the story of the destruction of a mighty civilisation by these two noblest of men…<em>

Genesis stood by the stout ship, inhaling the sea air that blew all the way from his native land. Four years had passed since he had left Banora and the house of his father at the summons of Sephiroth, that great king and marshal of armies. Now at the dawning of the fifth year they had brought their long-oared ships to the shores of Tamblin, the citadel of the Wutaians and the last place to fall in their conquest of that great nation. For years the armies had been scouring the coast and islands of Wutai, sacking and raiding as they went, and amassing such wealth and glory as would make their names the stuff of legend for generations to come. Genesis himself was much gratified by the prizes he had won for himself: the gleaming armour he had stripped from a foreign prince felled by his sword; the shining coronet adorned with jewels he had taken from the head of a statue of Aphrodite (for which the goddess might have killed him, had he not had the protection of Athene); the shield, embossed with scenes of wars past, that he had found abandoned on the battlefield and hefted onto his shoulder.

Still, there was one prize he was without, one that he himself had earned, and which had been taken from him. On the eve of the third day after they had moored the black ships on the shore that stretched to the fort of Tamblin, Genesis – along with a small company of his Banorans – had stolen into the city in the armour of the enemy. In this disguise he had come to the temple of Apollo at the very heart of the citadel, wherein he had found the prophetess, the lovely Aerith who spoke only the truth. It was because of this girl that Genesis was now alone by the flagship of the fleet had had brought across the wine-dark sea, allowing the mild westerly wind to sooth his anger and cool the rage that consumed his heart. Upon returning to the camp of many armies, Sephiroth – who was the best of the warriors that had come to Wutai and their acknowledged leader – had taken the girl from him, wanting her as his own personal oracle. Genesis recalled now the scene in the tent, when before the other leaders Sephiroth had shamed him by taking his prize, and attributing all glory to himself. The anger that rose in Genesis in that moment caused him to draw his sword, all his love for the man forgotten in the black hatred that reared within him, but just then swift-footed Iris, messenger of Hera, flitted into the tent and held him back, invisible to all but him. Then the goddess had whispered quick words in his ear: "Check your anger, prince, and do not stand against the king. It is not your destiny to kill Sephiroth, who has more strength and gods on his side than yourself, loved by heaven though you are. Sheath your sword then, and speak soft words to him. Show him the grace he has not shown you."

In compliance with the goddess' wishes, Genesis had sheathed the cruel bronze, but quit the tent without a word; the satisfied smirk of the ruler of the kingdoms of Midgar following him all the way. Genesis now heard the sound of another approaching, and turned to see his childhood friend Angeal, who had come with him from Banora, treading across the golden sand, accompanied by a younger, also dark-haired, soldier. Zack Fair had come to Wutai with the legions from Gongaga, and in the years since leaving his home he had gained the patronage and friendship of Angeal, a proficient and experienced military leader.

"Genesis," Angeal called out to the Banoran prince, "what are you doing here by the ships while the men prepare for battle? Your father, though now too old for the fight himself, would be ashamed to see you standing around idle while lesser men are sharpening their swords and ready their horses, eager to rush into battle and win glory. The son is a living testament to his father, and many sons do not live up to the legacy of the sire. Take care, Genesis, and do not let your feelings overcome your duty to your father, and so dishonour his name by sullying your own. Come, the leaders of our armies are convening, and as our prince you must represent the Banorans in the assembly. Forget your anger now, and govern your army as your father would."

Genesis listened to the words of his friend, and the black anger receded from his heart. Turning his back on the sea, he went with Angeal and the Gongagan boy to the camp, where he saw the men were indeed getting ready for the next fight. He was proud to see the men from Banora polishing their bronze armour and priming their chariots, securing the spirited warhorses in the harnesses. The three warriors now came to the biggest tent of all, where – as Angeal had said – the kings and leaders of the armies had gathered to assembly, Sephiroth at the centre of them. Standing among the other leaders, Genesis saw he had a silvery glow about his head and shoulders that the other men lacked, for he was the most godlike of all the men that had come to Wutai: the son of the bright-eyed goddess Athene. Sephiroth saw Genesis and called him over, and once the prince was by his side Sephiroth took his hand in his and kissed it, caressing Genesis' face with the other.

"Are you still angry with me, princeling?" Sephiroth asked softly (the other leaders did not hear, as they were talking amongst themselves and had not yet been called to order), "Is that why you have stood back while other men prepare for battle? Is this girlish rage of yours what keeps you from standing by your men while lesser fighters than yourself look forward to winning glory?"

The strong hands that held Genesis now gripped him like steel, and the general of the many armies glared down into the red-haired prince's handsome face. But Genesis would not be intimidated. His spirit was of the kind of composition that only kings and the sons of kings have, and such a spirit is not easily daunted by the threats of men.

"If you think I intend to sit out of the fighting because you have slighted me, Sephiroth, then you are mistaken. The sons of Rhapsodos do not leave the battle to other men while they themselves stay behind like women, but are first to rush into battle with sword and fiery bronze shield. You think I would let you win all the glory for yourself and so disgrace my own name and the name of my father? It is my pleasure to fight, and my fondest wish to die in battle. That way, I might also have revenge on you for dishonouring me by taking what I myself had won."

Genesis finished speaking and looked challengingly into his lover's eyes, and saw the inhuman catlike irises were dilated with anger. The king seized Genesis' chin, but did not strike him as he wished to, as all the assembly were still about them. Neither man was a fool, and each knew the other's motive for wanting the girl. When he saw her after breaking into the temple, cowering fearfully by the sun-god's alter, Genesis had been struck by the girl's pure and natural beauty. Had her fear not spoken so strongly of her delicate mortality he would have taken her for some goddess; some nymph that had fled to the sanctity of the temple to escape the appetite of a lusty satyr. It was not in Genesis' nature to crave the company of women, but as the son of a king he had certain filial duties to perform. The prophetess was high-born and nubile, not of the Wutaian stock but of the fair-skinned race of Midgar, Sephiroth's land. An oracle was a valuable commodity, and Aerith (whose looks suggested her to be of divine descent) had long ago been snatched from her home and taken to this far-off land while she was still very young. Sephiroth, suspecting Genesis' dual motives in keeping the girl, had taken her away from him. A king himself, Sephiroth had three brothers to succeed him, and with Genesis by his side he had no interest in taking a wife. He knew what the red-haired prince feared, and it angered him. Genesis had refused to be his official prince consort, as this would mean he wouldn't be allowed a wife (and would thereby be denied a means of getting heirs), and upon his father's death all his land and inheritance would become Sephiroth's property and not his own. Genesis was, by far, much too proud to allow such a thing. Though he loved Sephiroth as he did, it was his desire for glory that ruled the prince in these matters.

At length Sephiroth regained control of his temper enough to speak.

"We will not talk of these matters here. Come," Sephiroth's grip on Genesis' hand was gentler now but still firm as he guided him to a sculpted oak chair, "sit by my side and the rulers of the many kingdoms will believe that we are no longer in opposition."

Genesis gave his lover a sceptical look but did not object, sitting on the chair beside the somewhat grander chair Sephiroth had taken, and doing his best to look like he didn't want to be there. Seeing that the King of Midgar was seated, the other leaders fell silent and gathered round, eager to hear what the king would say, and some hoping for a reprise of the earlier quarrel between the two godlike men that now sat side by side.

"Comrades," Sephiroth said, his voice which marshalled armies now capturing the attention of the entire assembly, "Rulers of the western kingdoms, so far in our conquests we have been little more than roving pirates, sailing between islands on the wine-dark sea and gathering wealth to win ourselves many lifetimes' worth of glory. But there is only one way in which we can achieve everlasting fame, and that is by sacking the sacred citadel of the Sun, the mighty fortress of Tamblin, and the last sanctuary of Godo Kisaragi, the Wutaians' aging king. But before we enter the battle, let us first consult the oracle." Now Sephiroth spoke to Yazoo, his second-youngest brother and the most compliant, "Yazoo, go and fetch the girl Aerith from my tent and bring her here."

Yazoo did as he was bid and the girl was brought before the counsel, wearing the garb of a priestess of Apollo. She stood nervously before Sephiroth and Genesis (who looked at her with a rather sullen expression, as he did not miss the insult done to him by Sephiroth who flaunted his lost prize before him), and gasped fearfully as the king addressed her.

"Prophetess of Apollo, son of almighty Zeus, speak to us now with the voice of the god. Tell us whether it is our victory or our destruction that we march to."

Before Sephiroth had finished speaking the girl was convulsing, her eyes rolled in her head and she collapsed to the floor as the god overcame her, taking possession of her body. When she spoke, it was the voice of the holy Sun that came from her lips.

"Son of Athene, most loved by Zeus," Aerith spoke, and the words echoed around the tent in a manner which frightened the leaders gathered there, "it has been four years since you left your native land and travelled across the vast sea to wreak destruction on the land and people of Wutai. Now as the fifth year dawns, you seek to obliterate this once-great nation forever and so have come to storm Tamblin, my own beloved city. But you will find the task harder than you think, as Godo has allied himself with the Turks, and so balanced his army against yours. So, Sephiroth, king of men, battle the Wutaians all you like, but whether the outcome will be your doom or theirs I shall not reveal."

The oracle collapsed, the god leaving her, and her eyes closed in a forced sleep. The tent was silent. No one wanted to look at Sephiroth, expecting the anger of a king to bubble forth from him, yet several pairs of eyes flicked nervously to him and away again, fearful of his wrath. All the kings and military leaders were shocked therefore, when the king let out a snigger.

"So the Wutaians are finished then," Sephiroth said confidently, "and their god seeks to scare us by exaggerating their forces. A handful of Turks and the pathetic remains of the Wutaian armies won't stand a chance against our western legions. Now kings and princes, we will take command of our armies, and face our enemies on the beach."

There were general murmurings of agreement which grew in enthusiasm and the men flooded from the tent, heading over the camp in all directions to where their soldiers stood. Aerith was not left to lie on the ground, but at Sephiroth's request was carried out of the tent by two slave girls. Sephiroth kept a hand on Genesis' shoulder to keep him behind a moment, nodding at Angeal to tell him to leave as the man gave them a quizzical look. Despite having Genesis as their prince, it was normally Angeal who organised the Banorans, as the silver-haired king demanded that he have his lover beside him in battle. When they were alone, Sephiroth's eyes went to Genesis, who had his arms crossed sulkily and was resolutely looking the other way. Sephiroth smirked, and moved his hand to stroke his lover's silky hair.

"Genesis," he said, filling his voice with authority even as he caressed the prince, "you have no right to be angry with me. I am the leader of the armies, and the most eminent of the western kings that have come here, and so may take any prize I choose."

Genesis slowly turned to look at Sephiroth with a glare.

"The spoils of war go to whoever it is that wins them. I discovered the girl and brought her here, and it was not your right to take her from me."

"But she was not a spoil of war. You did not kill her father or husband in battle; neither did you raid her home. You found her while on a scouting mission, and that does not in any way make her yours."

"Then how is it that you have any rights to her?" Genesis asked petulantly, continuing to scowl at Sephiroth.

"Because I took her from you. Now she is a spoil."

Genesis rolled his eyes and turned away again. It aggravated him that he could never win with the silver-haired king. Sephiroth was too powerful and too confident in his own power to ever back down, or give over anything in compromise. Genesis couldn't even call it arrogance: Sephiroth was truly invulnerable, and that was why the red-haired prince so grudgingly admired him.

"You have no need of women, Genesis," Sephiroth said, his voice like stone. He turned his lover's face toward him, and Genesis saw the hardness in his eyes too.

"Neither do you," Genesis said, trying to match Sephiroth's tone. Sephiroth's eyes gleamed, the pale green taking on a celestial glow, and he leaned in close to Genesis to brush his soft lips against the shell of his ear.

"No, because I have you."

Genesis shivered at the breath that tickled his ear, but would not give in that easily. When Sephiroth began nibble at his lobe, he pulled away, glaring at the man.

"I am not a woman, Sephiroth."

"No, indeed. I am familiar with that fact. If it were otherwise, you would surely have become pregnant by now."

Genesis leapt from his chair, intending to storm off, but he changed his mind and whipped around to face Sephiroth instead.

"I will not sit here and listen to you mocking me, Sephiroth. You say you want me as your prince consort, but what you really want is a catamite. Well I am not a whore, and I would rather live a life of chastity than live solely for your gratification."

Sephiroth rose too, his anger again provoked.

"I never said you were a catamite!" Sephiroth said, his voice rising with his temper.

"Your actions suggest otherwise. You act as though I am beneath you; you take from me whatever you choose; you even deny me the command of my army!" Genesis shouted. Sephiroth strode across the tent, grabbing hold of Genesis' forearms as he glowered thunderously into his face. Genesis did not recoil, and met Sephiroth's stormy expression with his own.

"I am the son of Athene, the king of Midgar; you are merely a prince. It is my divine right to take whatever I choose. Do not go against me, Genesis. You may drive me to do something which we will both regret."

Both men stared furiously into each other's eyes for a moment, not speaking; too angry to speak. For the first time, Genesis felt a trickle of fear. He knew his lover better than anyone, and knew there was not a mortal on the planet that could match Sephiroth for strength, or hotness of temper – even himself. One of Sephiroth's hands had come to his throat, and Genesis knew that if he said anything more to provoke him that grip would tighten. Just as he opened his mouth, Genesis felt a light tap on his shoulder, and Hermes – the kindly god – circled round into his line of sight.

"Son of Rhapsodos," Hermes spoke in a friendly voice, smiling serenely at Genesis (he was unseen by Sephiroth, as the god had temporarily frozen him), "why are you provoking the king in this way? You know he is the son of a god, and has a temper as fearsome as Zeus himself. Do not seek to anger Sephiroth anymore, or you may never leave these foreign shores. Or, if you do, it may be in disgrace that you return to the house of your father. Speak gently now, and cool his fury against you, or else Hera – the mother of the gods – fears you may be harmed. Do not deny the king: it has been decreed by Fate your two kingdoms shall be united, and no one – man or god – can alter Fate."

The rosy glow about the messenger god's head and shoulders intensified, and he disappeared, leaving the two men alone in the tent once more. Sephiroth was now reanimated, and his thumb traced along the delicate length of Genesis' throat. Genesis, who was frightened now by the god's words, placed his own hand over Sephiroth's, and looked up into the king's eyes beseechingly.

"Forgive me my anger, sir. I know now it was unjust."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed suspiciously at this uncharacteristic display of compliance, but brought up his hands to cup the prince's head, the crown of which he now kissed.

"Let us not argue anymore. We must now before for battle: the fight is nearly upon us," Sephiroth said, and he took his lover by the hand and in this manner led him from the tent.

From the heights of heaven the gods were looking down, and had observed the entire spectacle.

"So, Hera, Sephiroth did not tear your princeling's throat from his neck, as you had so feared it would be," Zeus remarked to his wife, who was standing by Athene and watching the two men of which the king of the gods spoke with a fond smile.

"It was only by the intervention of your messenger that there wasn't blood all over the inside of that tent, for which I must thank you," Hera answered, looking briefly at her husband before turning her attention back to the world below. She directed her next words at Athene: "Your son would have torn him limb from limb."

"That's because he has his grandfather's temper and my fighting spirit, both of which I am proud," Athene replied tersely, though she directed a smile at her father Zeus.

"Or," Hera went on, "Genesis might have killed Sephiroth earlier had I not sent Iris to stop him."

"As if he could have managed it," Athene said scornfully, her eyebrow raised in a manner similar to her son.

"Anyway," Hera said, "it is not right for them to be at odds with one another. It isn't how things are meant to go."

The goddess frowned, watching Sephiroth lead Genesis into his own tent (so far there had not been anymore quarrelling, and she hoped it stayed that way). The two men were meant to be united and to unite their kingdoms, but so far it looked as though each was more concerned with their own interests. Sephiroth desired absolute, undisputed power; Genesis wanted to please his father and one day rule Banora in his stead. Neither yet saw they would win more glory together than they could apart.

"Fate will find its way," Zeus said, his voice holding such gravity that none of the gods present could doubt his words, "When Fate spins a web, the course it runs can never be quite certain, yet it always brings about the promised end. So it is with Genesis, and godlike Sephiroth. This long drawn-out war, too, shall have its end, and sooner than these mortals think."

The gathered immortals heard the words of the Father, and all watched as the forces of the western kings assembled on the Wutaian plain. On the other side, the great gates of the fortress had opened, and the armies of Wutai and her allies were emerging, spreading out over the beach to meet the invaders head on. Leading the Wutaians was Godo himself, resplendent in shining bronze armour. At the far end of the field was Tseng, commander of the Turk army from the north: a native Wutaian himself. Across the plain, Sephiroth mounted his golden chariot, pulling Genesis up beside him, and the red-haired prince took the reins. Behind them were the forces from Midgar, and on either side the forces from Nibelheim, Banora, Gongaga, Junon, Kalm, Modeoheim, Mideel and all the corners of the western world stretched out, making a number far greater than the Wutaians.

Now all assembled the leaders on both sides gave orders to advance, and the Wutaians rushed out over the plain with fearsome cries. From the other direction, the western forces came on with steady deliberation. As when the a wave breaks at the turning of the tide and washes steadfastly up the shore, so the westerners advanced with quiet strength, their silence speaking of their unity in the approaching fight.

One of the first to rush into battle was Cloud Strife. He had come with the forces from wintry Nibelheim, a land ruled by the Lockharts, and was among the youngest of the warriors that had come to Wutai. Now he broke out in front of the western ranks, coming on foot with sword and spear in hand. He was met by a Wutaian, who spotted him breaking from the lines and saw his chance to win some glory. This Wutaian was first to throw his sharp spear, but Cloud raised his trusty shield (which had been worked by Hephaestus, the lame blacksmith god, and given to him by Athene) and deflected the projectile. The spear glanced off the surface and hit a Turk as he ran to the fight, piercing his neck and sticking there, and he collapsed to the ground. Next Cloud threw his own spear, murmuring a prayer that his aim be true, and it flew surely at the Wutaian, splitting his breastplate and lodging in his chest. The man fell, blood running from his chest in rivulets, and he breathed out his life into the winds.

Seeing his adversary had fallen, Cloud hurried to the body, seeking to retrieve the man's sword-belt and splendid helmet for himself, but he was blocked by a Turk bearing a shuriken. The four-bladed weapon was flung at his neck with a deadly accuracy, but Athene altered its course and it stuck in Cloud's pauldron, perforating his shoulder and drawing forth a stream of blood. The son of Strife saw the blood and was alarmed, and in his youthful panic he tore the shuriken from his shoulder, inflicting more damage on the muscle there. Just as a wolf's ire is only inflamed by his injuries, so Cloud's fury increased at the pain done to his shoulder, and he now flew at his enemy, drawing his sword as he came. He brought the great sword high and then swung it down, cleaving the Turk's neck from her shoulder. This threat removed, Cloud proceeded to collect the spoils he had won.

On another part of the plain, Genesis was driving Sephiroth's chariot into battle as the king sought the Turk commander, wishing to be the one to kill Tseng. A Wutaian attempted to shoot Sephiroth from close range with a curved bow as the godlike man drove past, but the silver king brought the long length of his sword around and carved through the man's chest, lopping him in half and sending his soul screaming down to Hades. Before they reached Tseng, however, Sephiroth spotted Rude, an eminent warrior among the Turks, and directed Genesis to bring the chariot around to face him. Genesis did so and Sephiroth leapt down, standing before the formidable Turk with Masamune in hand.

"I hear you are not the kind to goad your enemies with taunts, Rude," Sephiroth said, his words sounding clearly over the din of the battle. True to his reputation, the Turk made no reply. "All the better then."

Sephiroth finished speaking and ran at Rude, twirling Masamune. The Turk – who was armed only with sword and shield – kept his ground, adjusting his stance to meet the attack. He deflected Sephiroth's blows two, then three times, but on the fourth his sword was twisted from his hand, and he was left with only his shield for protection. Sephiroth rejoiced over his impending win, and brought down Masamune with a crash, knocking the heavy shield from Rude's grasp. In another swipe he slashed at the Turk's chest, breaking through the thick metal of his armour and the thin cloth beneath, goring the flesh below and tearing through his ribs to pierce his lungs. Rude fell, gasping for air that he could no longer breathe, and his life ended there on the plain.

The goddess Hera saw that Genesis was alone in the chariot, and knowing that Ares – God of War – was among the Wutaians, she grew fretful for his safety and so swooped down from high heaven to appear in her true form beside him.

"Son of Rhapsodos," Hera addressed him, standing before him in the gleaming armour of Zeus, "will you stay and hold the king's chariot for him like a servant, while he does battle and wins glory? Come now. Ares – bringer of strife – is roaming about the battlefield, and we shall face him now head on."

With these words the goddess mounted the chariot, taking the reins herself while Genesis lifted his spear. Hera urged the horses on, and they ranged through the battlefield in pursuit of Ares. They found him ploughing through the lines of the western soldiers, a fiery blade in hand and a mighty shield on his arm that he was using to smash his enemies down. Genesis was able to see the god as Hera had temporarily lifted the veil from his eyes that prevented mortals seeing the immortals as they walked among them.

Ares caught sight of the goddess and the mortal beside her. Seeing that the man meant to harm him, the war-god's wrath was stirred, and he pulled one of his bronze spears from the corpse of one of the many men he had felled: a soldier from Junon and would never see his homeland again. Taking this spear, Ares made aim at Genesis, and the spear made quick flight at him. Genesis had barely any time to react, but managed to raise his shield in time to stop the spear from killing him. The blade passed through the shield and hit his armour: denting his breastplate though not breaking through. The goddess was angered by this assault on a favourite of hers, but Genesis was unshaken. Throwing his shield aside, he lifted his own spear and threw, and it struck home in the war-god's huge thigh. Ares gave a shout of pain as immortal blood poured from the wound, and grabbed hold of the spear, breaking off the wood but leaving the blade lodged inside.

The goddess Athene was passing through the lines, and saw Genesis facing the God of War, with Hera standing by. Athene was irked that the mother of the gods should put her son's beloved to fighting a god, and made swift progress through the battling warriors to where Sephiroth was fighting. The king had not yet noticed his lover's disappearance, but had since fought many men and was now facing off with a red-haired Turk who was attempting to retrieve the body of the fallen Rude. Athene watched as her son cut the man down then went to his side, speaking quick words in his ear.

"My son, have you forgotten your beloved Genesis? He has been urged into the fighting by Hera, whom I thought held him in such high esteem, and she has set him against Ares, the ferocious God of War, in a battle which he cannot win. Come quickly, my son, and save him from harm."

At his mother's words Sephiroth set off quickly through the lines, his way shown to him by the goddess. He discovered Genesis as he attempted to hold his own against the god who was wearing him down with heavy blows. Genesis had left the chariot (in which Hera still stood, watching the fight and giving words of encouragement to Genesis as she held the swift-footed horses steady) and having lost his shield, he had only his rapier to parry the attacks of tireless Ares. Sephiroth's heart was filled with rage to see his lover in such danger, and he came at Ares like one of the gods that dwell in heaven. The war-god did not see the king coming, and Sephiroth was able to hurl his spear into the vulnerable space in his armour where the breastplate met the pauldron, earning a roar from the god. Ares viciously wrenched the spear from his shoulder, and brutishly knocked Genesis aside with a blow from his great shield, heading instead for Sephiroth. The silver king raised Masamune to meet the god's attack, which came with inhuman force. The impact pushed Sephiroth back away, but he had wits enough to charge the god, impaling him on his sword and lifting him with godlike strength before flinging him to the ground. Ares rose painfully, but had not strength enough to continue the fight, and so disappeared, fleeing back to the heights of high heaven.

The Wutaians were now pressing in on all sides. Genesis was injured, and had been made unconscious by the war-god's blow. Sephiroth cast around for his mother, but she had disappeared once more. Hera had climbed down from the chariot and was cradling Genesis in her arms. Sephiroth seethed to see that goddess that had put his lover in danger now holding him, but was forced to continue the fight when an enemy warrior closed in on him, attempting to stab him with his bronze-tipped spear. Seeing that Genesis was not able to fight, Hera was fretful one of the Wutaians would do some harm to him. Holding fast to Genesis, she spirited him away to one of her temples on a nearby island, and it was there that she used herbs and medicines to cure him.

High above, the gods were in hot debate. Ares – still in agony – was furious at being attacked and wounded by two humans. Athene was fiercely defending her case, as it was not she who had put Genesis to facing off with the god.

"Look, Father," Ares was saying to Zeus, "see what your daughter has put her son to doing! It is the machinations of the scheming Athene and of my mother Hera that has led to humans doing battle with gods. First my mother set Genesis to fighting me in the hopes that I would leave the field and so swing the fight in favour of the western armies, and then artful Athene had her son attack me!"

"I merely alerted Sephiroth that Genesis had been persuaded to fight you in order that he could defend the prince, and so save himself the pain of having his beloved cruelly torn from him," Athene said, glaring at her brother Ares.

The Father of gods and men now called for silence, and the gods that had been moved to stand now took their seats in the great chamber of Zeus' palace. It was only after they were completely settled that Zeus spoke.

"The gods are becoming too intimately involved in the affairs of these mortals. Did I not say only today that the Fates would find their way? This war must reach its conclusion, and no matter what that conclusion may be, there is neither man nor god that can alter it. As for mortals fighting gods, it was Ares' choice to enter the field of battle, and so it was by his own interference that he came to be harmed. Any god who so wishes to fight a mortal man may do so, but do not come to me whining when you are hurt."

The Father was now silent, and his silence fell on the company of gods like the coming of night, pressing close about them in a way that nearly smothered. The immortals fidgeted in their seats; every one of them was eager to know what was happening in the fight below, but was too afraid of their king to look.

The day was coming to a close. All the men were weary, and as Sephiroth killed his last man he gave the signal to one of his commanders to pull back, which was passed all down the now broken lines. Sephiroth looked everywhere for Genesis and when he could not find him fear clenched his heart. Noticing one of her favourites was in distress, Hera brought the now healed Genesis back to the camp, laying him in fresh clothes in Sephiroth's tent, and creating a rosy glow about his head and shoulders.

Sephiroth returned to the camp, and still searching for Genesis he looked first in the prince's tent, and then the medical tent, where the healers said they had not seen him. At last he came to his own tent, where he found the red-haired prince sleeping serenely, the grime of battle no longer on him and a rosy glow about him that made his beauty all the more sublime. Seeing him, Sephiroth stopped, and felt the relief and desire wash over him as he watched Genesis sleeping softly in his bed. Sephiroth felt a strange sensation about his mouth before he realised he was smiling. It was funny; he'd not had much reason to smile recently, at least not a genuine smile. He gently treaded over to Genesis, his fingers ghosting over his lover's beautiful form. The prince stirred, his muscles shifting perceptibly along his neck and shoulders. Sephiroth bent over his, inhaled the sweet scent of his hair, and whispered into his ear.

"Genesis."

His lover stirred again, his eyelids fluttering but not opening.

"Genesis…" Sephiroth tried a second time, and blue eyes opened.

"I was dreaming," Genesis breathed sounding like a soothsayer, like an oracle who had inhaled the fumes of some sacred herb; his voice was full of wonder at whatever vision he had seen. "I dreamt that we sailed into hell on a black ship, and all the shades of the ones who had died on the plains of Wutai flocked to us, and neither fire nor libation could drive them away."

"Did we survive?" Sephiroth asked, stroking Genesis' hair. The prince frowned.

"I don't know."

Sephiroth lowered his head still, touching his lips to the soft peony lips of Genesis, kissing him slowly, languorously. It was the first kiss they had shared in a while: they had been at odds so long and over so little. Genesis opened his mouth, more receptive than usual, and all because Hera – goddess of marital unity – had altered his disposition to his lover; cooling his anger and warming his heart, willing him to submit to the king. Sephiroth brought up both hands to hold Genesis' head, tilting it to allow better access to the mouth his tongue now invaded. Sephiroth's passion brought Genesis out of the lethargic stupor the goddess had put him in, and he responded to the king with equal desire, pressing up into him and running deft hands down that powerful back. Sephiroth shifted, pushing Genesis down and climbing into the bed himself, not breaking the kiss until he was atop him. He tore the thin tunic from the body of his lover, exposing Genesis' naked form to his roaming teeth and tongue. Sephiroth's mouth travelled from the prince's neck to his navel, nibbling and licking as he went while Genesis gasped and arched, his loins reacting beautifully. Sephiroth pulled back and admired his lover, who lay back decadently on the bed, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

"Now, little princeling, undress me."

Genesis pouted at the name (which Sephiroth knew he despised) but made no other complaint. He reached first for the pauldrons that were all the protection the king had other than his great coat and trousers. The heavy armour and clothing were removed swiftly while Sephiroth smirked at his lover, amused and gratified by Genesis' uncommon obedience. It was just as well Genesis was being so accommodating, or Sephiroth wouldn't have had the patience to deal with him after a long day of battle without there being violence. Once Genesis was done, Sephiroth pushed him back, pushing his thighs apart with his own and moving within the gap. Genesis angled his head for another kiss, and Sephiroth obliged him, one had on the prince's back to keep him in place, the other running up his leg to the inside of a creamy thigh. Genesis broke the kiss and whined, thrusting his hips as Sephiroth teased him, circling the skin around he erect cock without touching the weeping member. Sephiroth shushed him, thinking of the nearness of the other soldiers, and clamped a hand over the prince's mouth. Genesis glared at him, but gasped as Sephiroth's other hand gripped his cock, stroking it languidly while looking intensely into Genesis' eyes, seeing them wide and helpless.

Genesis whimpered as Sephiroth released him, reaching underneath the bed's wooden frame to the oil stowed there. He watched the man in desire and awe as he towered over him, lifting his legs over his shoulders as he brought his oil coated fingers to Genesis' entrance, twirling them over the puckered skin there before he pushed in two at once. The prince gasped again, watching Sephiroth with a look that was half lusty, half fretful. Sephiroth's gaze did not move from Genesis' eyes as he stretched him and added a third finger, pushing all three in to the knuckle. Genesis thought Sephiroth had never seemed so divine, his power never so unquestionable as now, as he managed to make Genesis submit to him without a single threat or word of violence. The prince panted, twitching his hips as those fingers moved within him, withdrew. Sephiroth now stroked his own cock, slickening it with the remains of the oil and his own pre-come. Sephiroth moved into position, watching as his cock bumped against Genesis entrance, and then looking up at the prince once more.

"My precious princeling," he murmured affectionately, maliciously. He thrust forward, burying his entire length in the tight, hot passage. Genesis let out a moan like a howl, his voice full of as much pain as pleasure. Sephiroth started moving immediately, both hands gripping the prince's narrow hips as he began his savage rhythm. Genesis cried out over and over, trying to move with his lover but the man moved at a godlike speed. Instead Genesis hugged Sephiroth's neck with his ankles, keeping him as close as possible as the silver king thrust into him again and again. Genesis threw his head back, relishing in the feeling of penetration and the glorious friction on his cock as their bodies moved against each other. Sephiroth kept up the pace, his inhuman stamina unrelenting, as he growled in pleasure at being buried to the hilt repeatedly within the prince. Genesis' breathing hitched, and he held desperately onto Sephiroth's forearms, his nails digging in, as he came spilling his come over his own chest and onto Sephiroth. Sephiroth growled again as the delicious sensation of Genesis' internal walls spasming and clamping around him, but managed to hold out a little longer and continued to thrust relentlessly until he, too, climaxed, driving himself as deep as possible into his lover's body as he came deep within him. Sephiroth slowed, and finally withdrew. He looked down into the face of Genesis, who looked back at him with languid contentment. Sephiroth took Genesis' legs down from his shoulders (making the prince hiss as his muscles had gone stiff) and finally lay down and pulled him into an embrace, drawing the blankets over them. Genesis settled happily into Sephiroth, curling up against him like a cat, and the two warriors fell asleep there together, for once not sparing a single thought to the armies outside, or the city that was yet to be conquered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Finally, something to show you guys. I may continue this at some point - after all, the peace can't last forever, can it? - but really I'm long overdue an update on **_**Men and Gentlemen**_** (which because I'm now a full-time student and so there may not be one for a while still). Just in case you were wondering (I don't know if people generally know this) the term "catamite" is what the ancient Romans used to mean a boy kept by an older man, I'm sure you can guess for what purposes.**


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